People the World Forgot #1

The Constant Gardener

First, let me clear the air. I've had people bugging me all week, "Rocket, you said this new feature would be coming out on your blog soon. It's been exactly 20 days since you said that! How soon is soon? HOW SOON IS SOON?" Needless to say I've had to console a few tearful readers this week as they pitifully attempt to regain composure. Let me explain what "soon" means. "Soon" means "when I deem it appropriate." It seems rather arbitrary to me that someone would attempt to assign a concrete time value to "soon." It is my ability to thwart people's time conceptions that aids in my success, and my use of "soon" in the previous article is no exception. Imagine if those crying masses of humanity had been bigshot executives trying to make a deal with me. "Rocket, we'd like to purchase your blog, your upcoming book, and any future intellectual property, for quite a hefty sum, as it states here on this contract. Will you sign it?" "Soon," I say, "I'll sign it soon." Well, they go away happy, thinking that they had pulled one over on the old Rocket. However, as two weeks go by, they get a little nervous. Three weeks go by, and perhaps the Rocket's blog mentions that the Rocket has been in discussion with other executives from a different soul crushing publisher. In about a month, they come back to the Rocket with a new contract, soaked with their tears and inked in their blood, offering to purchase my limitless intellectual potential for an equally unimaginable sum. That, my friends, is how you use time to your advantage. And that was a bonus rocket rule for the astute reader.

However, I digress. Let us discuss the first of many "People the World Forgot." Today's subject is a man I have named, "The Constant Gardener," or, "Gardener" for short. He is a short man, probably in his mid fifties. He is surprisingly thin and hatty. By hatty I mean that he always wears one of those bucket hats, with his wispy white sideburns sneaking out the side. He has a blue windbreaker that he wears with equal ferocity in the heat of summer and the bone biting cold of winter. His jeans are always of a dad variety - a little tight, yet kind of bulky, with pockets full of odds and ends. He seems to be quite enamoured with his swiss army knife, which I have to constantly tell him to put away, for fear that he'll cut his rather delicate fingers. He seems odorless, but tends to carry a hint of cedar.

Every Wednesday afternoon, the Constant Gardener comes in to the library. He sits down at the table and reads the newspaper. Oddly though, he doesn't read the BC Province, or the Vancouver Sun. No, this man comes to the library to read the local newspaper. It often makes me wonder if he has a house. He hems and haws about the state of the (local) world for about 20 minutes. And he always folds up the "Wanda's Flower Follies" page and sticks it into his bulky pockets. Sometimes he uses his little swiss army knife to cut out the article itself and sneak it away before I can stop him. I never really try to stop him though, I find his pettiness distasteful. After this, he comes to me and asks me the same question: "Hey there cowboy [yes he calls me cowboy], do you have anything new in your gardening section?" To which I reply, "Not since last Wednesday." He then looks around awkwardly (Think Dwight from the office when he does his Jim impression), raps his fingers on the table, and mutters something to himself as he walks away. For six weeks now I've been trying to decipher what he's muttering. I think it's something along the lines of, "I'll never get this job done." Or perhaps, "Damn kids!" Anyways, he saunters out of the library and in to the light of day, never to be seen until next Wednesday.

Here's my theory. When the Gardener was in college, he met a girl. He promised her a big house with a beautiful garden full of roses and shrubs and petunias and such. She was delighted by his promise and they got engaged. However, she went on a backpacking trip to Europe that summer and met a strong yet sensitive Greek man who refused to take no for an answer. She fell in love and never returned. Ever since, the Gardener has been pining over his lost love, and constantly planning to start that garden he promised her so long ago. If only he could find the right book . . .

The lesson we can learn from this man: Don't fall in love. It impedes success. Also, bucket hats are unsavoury. And of course, you can't keep looking for the magic book that will help you start a successful project. You have to just start, and the books will come.

Wow, that was almost jedi-like.